


sugar

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Lawyers, Past Drug Use, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Rich bastards, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Thomas Jefferson, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: James is out of money and battling an out of control addiction. Maybe being a sugar baby to the rich (and single) Thomas Jefferson will provide him with the cash he needs to get back on his feet.(Updates Mondays and Fridays!)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> boy howdy this was a b a d idea

Dammit, James Madison had done it again. He was out of money, had been kicked out of his home, and was on the streets with his phone in his hand, pacing like a moron in front of a McDonald’s. What a wild ride, some might say, but to himself he wondered how he had ended up like this.  
Oh, now he remembered.  
..-..  
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Alex pushed, handing James a syringe full of God knows what. Scratch that, the odds were that even God himself didn’t know what was in that needle. “You’ll get super high, and it’ll be fuckin’ great!”  
“Alex, are you sure about this?” James stifled a cough, glancing nervously at the needle’s sharp tip. He didn’t want that thing anywhere near him.  
“Of course,” he laughed, plunging a needle into his own arm with a wince that faded into a strange, dopey, grin as the drug entered his bloodstream. “Do it, come on! Are you scared?” he goaded.  
James took a deep breath and gave in, doing as Alex had before he had a chance to reevaluate his life choices.  
In a few seconds, he understood why Alex had been nagging him to try it. It was fucking amazing. Everything bad in his life seemed to fade away, replaced only by giddy joy. He would later look back and find it ironic as everything came crashing down around him because of it.

James couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stop himself. His dealer kept charging him more, and more, and more, and he just kept buying more, and more, and more, until he was barely spending money on rent or food, instead drugs. Why, he asked himself, but he never answered.

“Come on, there’s no way the price went up by $35 since last week.” He hissed, frantically trying to get his next hit before he went into withdrawal. He had once, and it had not been fun.  
“Sorry, man, but prices are prices. I’ve gotta make a living too.” His dealer, who he didn’t even know the name of, rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the money.  
“You’re a snake,” he replied, voice dripping with venom as he bitterly slapped $60 into the waiting dealer’s hand. He was handed a brown paper bag, and James headed back to his apartment frustratedly, hands balled in his pockets and the bag full of illicit substances in his backpack.  
..-..  
And now here he was. In front of a McDonald's, only about thirty dollars in his wallet, and an empty stomach. There seemed to be only one logical solution to the problem; go inside and get something to eat.  
As he sat there silently eating his cheap burger, he began to think.  
What was he going to do? He had no home, was nearly broke, couldn’t ask his parents, any friends whose house he could stay at was in jail, and his life was overall just looking like a total crapsack. James needed some quick money. He could turn to selling drugs of his own? No, where would he find a supplier on such short notice? Stripping? That’d be a no. He didn’t have the right body for it.  
James pondered many more get-rich-quick schemes when he recalled a conversation he had had with an online friend of his a while ago, during college, before he dropped out to pay for his out-of-control addiction.  
“I’ve turned to being a sugar baby.” Lafayette said as James picked up the Skype call. “It is a surprisingly, what’s the word- cushy job. You would be surprised how much older, wealthy, men will pay for a homosexual... “ Lafayette seemed to search for the proper word, but then simply gave up and continued in French, “prostituée.”  
James didn’t know French, but he had enough common sense to guess what Laf meant. “Really?” he replied quietly.  
“Yes, being a sugar baby pays well if you know where to look. I’ve made $2000 in this past week alone from my escapades, and that’s all from only one client, not counting the shopping sprees. Although, now that I think on that, it may be because men will pay more for a Frenchman.” he mused aloud. “So, if you ever need some quick cash, just become a sugar baby or something.” He snickered before somebody in the background shouted something at him in French. “I’ve got to go. Timezones, huh? We’ll talk again soon.”  
..-..  
This could actually work, he thought, All I have to do is download an app or something, find a sugar daddy, and get back on my feet with the money I make.  
Sugar daddy.  
He still had trouble coming to terms with what he was about to do. James was going to be practically putting a price on his body. Did he really place that little value on himself, to indulge older men’s bizarre sexual fantasies in exchange for cash?  
That would be a yes, he thought sarcastically.  
It was the only thing he could resort to.  
Hopefully, he was handsome enough to get somebody interested in him. He was, to be honest, a bit desperate. Was the gay sugar baby market competitive?  
After a brief search, he found a good app to use, and set up his profile.

James, 22  
I’m down for absolutely whatever. Men, please. 

After uploading a few pictures of himself and confirming his interest in men to the site, he began to scroll through the options that he had. There were a surprisingly large amount of men interested in other men to strike up a potential offer with, but most of them appeared to only be in it for the sex, were in their late 50s, or in some cases, both. He may have been desperate, but not that desperate.  
James waited for any responses, until his phone buzzed with a message from somebody by the name of Thomas Jefferson. 

Thomas: I’ve noticed that you’re new, and I hope that some of the sleazier members haven’t scared you off yet, haha.  
He looked promising. Mr. Thomas Jefferson was thirty-two, and made… $465,000 in a single year? That was more than his childhood home was worth. What did the man do for a living? And he was so young, too. Only 32, and probably a millionaire. James decided to message back. What was the worst that could happen?  
James: Nope, I haven’t been scared off yet ;0  
Was that a bit too bold of him? He hoped not. James didn’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about him.  
Thomas: It would have been a real shame if you had been scared off before I got to you.  
James was now questioning most of his life decisions.  
James: what??  
Thomas: I’m just saying, you seem like a lovely guy. I’d love to get to know you better. Would you like to go out for coffee soon and see where that takes us? $500.  
He didn't see anything wrong with a simple coffee date. And was he offering $500? Right up front?  
James almost hesitated before clicking send.  
James: Of course. Where would you like to go?  
Thomas: Just a nearby Starbucks. Corner of Fifth and Shaymin, I’ll pay, does tomorrow at noon work?

 

Almost.


	2. Starbucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o fuck they're dating

James Madison wasn't exactly sure what to do. He was homeless and all of his worldly possessions were currently in a suitcase sitting in an alleyway between a Macy’s and an H&M. He found it ironic that he was sandwiched between such expensive stores when he himself only had $20 left.  
An alarm that he had set for 11:30 blared on his phone, sharing his awful taste in music with the world.  
Or, well, the alleyway that he had taken up residence in at least. James sat up with a groan, awoken from his brief nap, and turned it off, unsure of how he should dress. He didn’t exactly have many options, seeing as how he didn’t own anything fancier than a shirt and slacks. He had time, though. The Starbucks wasn’t more than a two minute walk from his current residence (or lack of one).  
He decided to quickly change his shirt into a slightly nicer pale grey hoodie with a yellow Hotline Bling owl on it before speeding off to the Starbucks.  
James dashed inside, snagging a seat at the last available table just as Mr. Thomas Jefferson himself walked on in. He slid into the seat across from James with a small smirk, dropping his bag on the floor next to him. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Madison.”  
His gentle Southern accent lent a soft and somewhat approachable quality to it, even though the rest of him practically screamed ‘you can’t even touch me, so don’t bother trying’. He was handsome in a different way than James’ previous boyfriends, the look in his eyes different than a high, sexed-up college boy. It was more mature, more refined, and gave James the impression that he’d be excellent in bed.  
If you were to ask James’ first impression of Thomas, he would have responded with a simple, “flashy”. He managed to pull off a deep magenta blazer that would probably look garish on anybody else, a simple but well-fitting shirt and jeans that looked more expensive than James’ entire outfit. Thomas’ stubble and long, curly, hair made him look younger, though, and James caught himself thinking, is this man really in his thirties?  
“Great, now I feel underdressed,” he joked, now extremely self conscious about his hoodie.  
“No, you’re fine!” Thomas responded with a little laugh. “I’ve just escaped from an unplanned meeting, though. Some of my coworkers make me want to commit murder/suicide. Anyway, I’ll go up to order. What do you want?”  
“I’ll have… a tall vanilla macchiato, I guess,” he answered, already thinking about all of the money that he’d get at the end of this.  
..-..  
Thomas returned a few minutes later with a drink in each hand, sliding one over to James. “So, what brings you to turn to this... lifestyle?” he skated around the obvious term and took a sip of his own drink. It sounded as if he were reluctant to say it out loud as well.  
“Well, what brings everybody else, I guess,” he responded quietly, taking a sip as well. “Money troubles.”  
“Oh…” Thomas drew it out with a sigh at the end. “On another note, have you ever met somebody named Alexander Hamilton? He gets around a lot, sleeps with everybody and their cousin too.”  
James tensed up. That was the prick who got him on heroin and basically threw his life down the crapper. “Yes, why? We’re not exactly on the best terms.” he responded quietly.  
“Well, he sucks up to my fuckin’ boss, all the time, like he’s trying to get hired. He literally never shuts the fuck up, and I’m 65% sure he’s a heroin junkie. So me and one of the people he loves to screw over all the time, Aaron Burr, have been trying to get him arrested, or at least keep him from worming his way into the company, for drug use. So far…” he sighed. “It’s not exactly working. I mean, I don’t really know what I expected, but…”  
James thought on that for a moment. “A heroin junkie?” he repeated quietly. It would be so easy to just tell Thomas what he knew, but how would he explain how he knew it? Alex was also a dealer, as far as James knew, and it would be so easy to just get revenge on him right here. But what if at the trial Alex named him and they both went to jail? As much as he wanted Alex to be locked up, he couldn’t risk it. James couldn’t afford a good enough lawyer to keep him a free man.  
“Yeah…” Thomas trailed off. “Once, I found a syringe in his bag, but the guy’s allergic to everything under the sun, so it could have just been a used EpiPen. I didn’t want to report it to the police or something than turn out to be wrong. Also, he almost burned down my fuckin’ house once when I had a Christmas party and he and his dopey friends were smoking outside! When Washington and I stepped outside to have a quick discussion about a future case, the four of them flip out and fling their cigarette butts into my rosebushes! Luckily, Washington was fast enough to prevent a house fire and over $2,000,000 of property damage, but my childhood home could have been destroyed because of this little douche with a cigarette problem.”  
James was sure that at this point the guy was just showing off and flashing his money. A two million dollar home? And he was positive that lawyers didn’t make that much money. What was Thomas hiding? “Where do you work, anyway?”  
“Do you have any idea how much money it would have cost to repair? And I couldn’t even do anything, you know, legally, because he’s not technically part of the company and cigarettes are legal.” he didn’t answer, instead continuing his tirade.  
James took note of the fact that his Southern accent seemed to be much more prominent when he was particularly upset.  
“Oh, my god,” James snickered. “Are you serious? If you want to get him in jail so bad, charge him with attempted arson.”  
“Yes!” Thomas grinned, giggling and taking another sip to stifle it. “I swear, I hate him so much.”  
“That makes two of us. I went to college with him, and we were friends until he kept trying to make me a druggie so he could deal to me.” James rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t deal any more, but I still hate him.”  
“He tried to deal to you?” Thomas leaned forward. “I knew that little shit was up to some shady tomfuckery.”  
Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. “No, not any more,” he covered up. “It was once, twice, three times maybe, until I told him to stop or I’d tell the administration. So, sadly, not any more,” James laughed nervously.  
Thomas seemed disappointed. “Ah. So we can’t get him arrested, I think. At least, not if he wasn’t previously involved with one of the three big Mexican cartels. Are you almost done?”  
James took another sip, trying to avoid having to fill the silence. How did Thomas know all of this about laws concerning past drug related offenses? “Yeah, and what about you? Ready to part ways?” He was ready for Thomas to hold up his end of the deal.  
“Of course.” Thomas threw his cup out, pulling his wallet from his pocket and slipping five $100 bills from it. “Here you go, James. I’d absolutely love to do something with you again. Maybe go shopping?”  
James examined the money almost in disbelief. “Oh my god…” he mumbled to himself.  
“I’ll see you around. Shopping tomorrow?” Thomas smartly picked up his bag and exited the Starbucks, leaving James to contemplate just how profitable this arrangement could be.  
“Sure,” James called after him.  
..-..  
Thomas’ appearance, hairstyle, and mannerisms were flamboyant and loud, the stark opposite of him. He hoped that he could hold Thomas’ attention (and his deep pockets) long enough to get his home and life back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ Timmy stop


	3. Neiman Marcus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas stop wasting all your money 
> 
>  
> 
> I actually did a shit ton of research on men's fashion for this and now my browser won't stop giving me John Varvatos ads but at least most of the information in this chapter is relevant

James Madison woke up the next day and was confused for a moment why his stomach didn’t feel hollow like it had that first morning he hadn’t had anything to eat. As the events of yesterday’s coffee date returned to him, a small smile spread across his face. He had been given $500.  
$500 for doing next to nothing. He could get control of his life back with this money if he kept this up. He could pick up the phone when his mother was calling him and not feel like a liar when he said that everything was fine.  
Speaking of his mother calling him, there she was. “Hi, Mom,” he picked up. “So, what are you calling for? Did something happen?”  
“James, is there something you’d like to tell me concerning your home?” she said bluntly. “I was driving to see your grandmother and I went past it. Your windows and blinds were open, but there was no furniture inside.” Say what you would about his mother, but she got straight to the point.  
“I don’t have much furniture, you know that,” he reminded.  
“The couch that you took to college was on the curb. Why?”  
He inhaled sharply. Damn, she could have been a detective. “I moved out and couldn’t take the couch,” he replied flatly. “There. Are you happy? No need to go all Sherlock Holmes on me.”  
His mother squealed excitedly. “Oh, my baby James, moving on in life! Your second apartment! Is it bigger? Or, ooh, did you move in with your… significant other?” James could practically see the smirk on her face.  
“What?” he replied anxiously. “No, that’s not what I-”  
“I’m sorry, James, I have to go. I’m proud of you, though!” As suddenly as she had called, she hung up in a flash, leaving James feeling like a real scumbag.. Great, now she thought he lived with his nonexistant girlfriend and had a job.  
Boy, was she wrong, he thought bitterly.  
James’ phone buzzed again.  
Thomas: Where do you live?  
James: Wow, stalker lol?  
Thomas: Yep, I’m on my way to slit your throat as we speak. What color flowers would you like at your funeral? I have a pretty good florist who can hook me up.  
James: Yellow and white.  
Thomas: Whatever you say. Seriously though, your address?  
James: It wouldn’t matter, I’m currently at that Starbucks from yesterday, just come pick me up there.  
Thomas: I go there all the time. They know me by now, though not by name. I’ve heard that they call me the rich magenta bastard. Anyway, we’re going shopping for stuff. If you’re going to be with moi, you need to be a snazzy little bastard.  
James: what  
Thomas: We planned this yesterday, remember?  
James: I’m POOR I CAN’T GO SHOPPING??  
Thomas: I’m NOT POOR  
Thomas: I’LL BUY THE CLOTHES IT’S CALLED A DATE BECAUSE I PAY FOR YOU  
James: Well, if you insist. When will you be at the Starbucks?  
Thomas: Give me two minutes.  
James walked into the Starbucks, sitting by the window to wait for Thomas. Hopefully, he arrived quickly and James wouldn’t be left waiting too long. His phone buzzed again to distract him.  
Laffy Taffy: so i heard you got that caaaash money james  
James: tf laf are you stalking me or something??? how many fingers am i holding up?  
Laffy Taffy: why aren’t you answering my skype calls? also none  
James; well you know it might have something to do with the fact that I am homeless as of two days ago and have turned to prostitution so that I don’t starve and my malnourished bony corpse does not rot on the streets of the city you know, nbd  
Laffy Taffy: FUCC JAMES WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME??? MY FAMILY OWNS PROPERTY IN MANHATTAN, YOU COULD HAVE STAYED THERE???  
James: because yall remember when you told me you were a sugar baby that long ass time ago when your dad cut you off?  
James: you were right it’s a super cushy job? I’ve been on one date and I’m $500 richer, now I’m waiting for him to pick me up so we can go s h o p p i n g  
Laffy Taffy: buy me something nice for my birthday please  
James: YOUR BIRTHDAY IS IN SEPTEMBER  
Laffy Taffy: so?  
James: IT’S MARCH  
Laffy Taffy: overseas shipping takes a long time what can i do  
Laffy Taffy: #frenchandproud  
James: god ffs laf he’s here I gtg  
James: and no I’m not getting you anything  
Laffy Taffy: rude  
Laffy Taffy: have a good time xoxo  
Thomas knocked on the window in front of James with a slight, good natured, smirk, jarring him back to reality. He went outside to greet him, only just realizing that he was wearing the same Hotline Bling sweatshirt as the day before. Well, it was too late to change now. He’d have to just deal with it.  
“You’re wearing the same sweatshirt?” Thomas observed. “See, this is why we are getting you some fancy new shit. Now that you’re with Thomas Jefferson, Rich Single Lawyer Extraordinaire, well, not single anymore, you’re going to be going to all kinds of BS black-tie parties and shit. If you want to, of course. Either way, though, I have some ideas on what you might look good in,” he ushered James into his car, which was a surprisingly modest Mercedes. “Humor me.”  
James slipped into the passenger seat.  
“So, where are we going?” James asked. “Hopefully not that Neiman Marcus,” he rolled his eyes at the one they had just passed.  
“No, we’re going to Neiman Marcus. Certainly not that Macy’s; I’ve got a lifetime ban from it,” Thomas snickered. “I went there with a friend of mine from France a few years back and we knocked over a display case while dicking around. So, they told us never to come back, and it’s not that big a deal. There are other Macy’s.”  
James let out a short but clipped laugh. He couldn’t imagine having so much money that he could talk about a Macy’s like it was a Wal-Mart. “Are you serious? They actually banned you? What’s the point of banning who I’m sure was one of their best customers?”  
“Oh, yeah.” He took a sharp turn. “I’m pretty sure that on that visit we might have blown at least $5,000 each. Call rich French people what you will, but I swear they’ve got cash to burn. Kind of like me. That’s probably why we get along so well, actually, now that I think about it,” Thomas rambled.  
Dropping that much in a single shopping visit? Lawyers made money, but not that kind of money. “How do you not have boys tripping over themselves to make an arrangement with you?” he crossed his legs after prying himself off of the car door. Maybe he’d get Thomas to let something suspicious slip like James had done yesterday.  
“Oh, I do,” he replied, focusing on the road as if he were trying to figure out how to answer without sounding insulting. “You listen to me instead of trying to shout over me. But you’re not just a silent little church mouse and agree with everything I say like a mindless ninny. You also seem absolute worlds more interesting than any of the others who’ve approached me. Speaking of messaging me, we haven’t exchanged phone numbers yet, have we? It’s much more efficient than using the app and uses much less battery.”  
“Oh, no, we haven’t.” James reached into his pocket for his phone. “Give me yours, I’ll put my number in. What’s yours?”  
“XXX-XXX-XXXX.”  
James entered that number dutifully and carefully, reading it aloud to Thomas over to make sure that it was correct. “Is that right?”  
Thomas nodded before parking in front of the Neiman Marcus in question. “Here we are.”  
James took one look at the exterior of the store and considered leaving. He was definitely out of his element now. “Am I always going to feel horribly underdressed when I’m with you?” he muttered, sliding out of Thomas’s passenger seat and handing him his phone back.  
“Not after this, you won’t,” Thomas ran a hand anxiously through his hair and slid his phone back into his pocket. “Are you ready to get horribly judgemental stares from staff members and patrons alike because you’re a minority with a bad reputation and they think you’re going to steal something?”  
James smiled nervously. “Oh, please, they’re not going to look at you that way. Now, me, on the other hand…? I don’t exactly look like I belong in a Neiman Marcus, you know.”  
“You really shouldn’t self deprecate so much,” Thomas chided. “You’re absolutely wonderful.”  
“You’re making me blush,” he grinned playfully, really thinking about how close together they were at the moment as Thomas led him into the store.  
To call it a store would be an understatement. It reminded James of the lobby of an all-inclusive hotel he had been to once when he was nine or ten. Blindingly white, clean, and expensive furniture everywhere. James was tempted to squint, somehow it was brighter inside the store than out. How?  
He looked over at Thomas, who was trying to stifle his laughter while staring at James. “God, you’re fucking adorable,” Thomas sighed. “You look so confused, it’s hilarious. Have you really never been in one of these stores before? Never?”  
“No, of course not,” James reminded. “Wasn’t that our entire conversation in the car? How I don’t go to fancy stores because I’m not rich?”  
“Ah, yeah,” Thomas flipped his hair and grinned abashedly. “Right, sorry, my bad. Anyway, let’s go.” Thomas strode up to the front desk. “Excuse me, ma’am, can you point me in the direction of the John Varvatos items?”  
The woman at the desk gestured in a random direction, and Thomas pulled James in that very specific direction. “Alright, thank you!” he called, and James had no choice but to let Thomas pull him along, but he wasn’t really objecting. “You’re going to look great in the stuff I’m thinking of,” he assured, and something in his tone gave James the impression that whatever it was, it was expensive as hell.  
Thomas slowed to a stop in front of what was probably the most expensive clothing James would ever wear in his life. “Here we are,” he said before letting go of James’s arm and searching the racks for whatever specific thing he was looking for. “Do you know what size you are, by any chance?”  
He had to think for a moment. “...Medium, I think?” James said awkwardly, and it sounded more like a question than a statement.  
“Medium?” he repeated. “Well, that would make sense, I guess.. You may be short, but you’re muscular.”  
James cracked his knuckles. “Are you calling me short? Maybe you’re just tall.”  
Thomas had a comically pompous sneer on his face. “Excuse you! I’m 6’2, the ‘perfect height,’ if you must know. Don’t demean me in my own home.”  
“This is a Neiman Marcus,” James reminded.  
“Not in MY house, you scoundrel!” he huffed. “Keep the demeaning for other places.” and then, with a devilish smirk on his face, he added, “like the bedroom.”  
James wheezed out an embarrassed laugh, stifling a cough. “Forward, aren’t you?” he forced out in between coughs.  
Thomas moved as if he were going to help James but wasn’t sure if his help was wanted. “Oh my God, are you okay?”  
“Yeah,” he had to pause for one final cough. “I’m fine. So, where were we?”  
“Well, aside from you almost dying on the floor of a Neiman Marcus, I was trying to find what I was looking for.” he stepped away and continued searching the racks. “Aha! James, come over here, I found the jacket,” Thomas held up something James couldn’t quite see.  
James came closer to examine what he was holding up.  
When he examined the jacket, it reminded him of Thomas in a way. At a first glance stylish and suave, but upon closer examination it was clearly cut from expensive fabric. It was a black, double-breasted, jacket that resembled an older English Navy uniform but still tastefully contemporary.  
“Thoughts?” Thomas turned it around to take a look at the back.  
“How much does that cost?” James replied.  
He dismissed James with a slight smirk. “Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it.”  
That was when James decided to check for himself and simply took another off of the rack and examined the tag. “Fuck!” he interjected suddenly. “It’s thirteen hundred dollars? How do you afford shit like this?  
He slid the hanger out of James’s hands and put it back onto the rack. “Well, I own my house because it’s been in the family since the 1700s, I have a high-paying job, and I don’t have house staff that I need to pay. This really isn’t that big of a deal, I have about $200,000 of disposable income.”  
Rich people, James thought. “Is that all we came here for?”  
“No, y’all need a dress shirt and pants. That won’t take long if we move fast, though, don’t worry, just keep up with me and we’ll be in and out.”  
They were indeed in and out, and James snuck a look at the receipt. $1800? Thomas needed to calm the fuck down. “Thomas, what the hell, why are you spending so much money on me?”  
“Do I need a reason?” came his reply, light and humorous, and James couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle.  
Later, James found a $100 bill in the right pocket of the black jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hippity hop it's time to stop


	4. Mr. Jay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Jay's face and voice is Aziz Ansari.

James Madison had two goals:

He had to find a house and a job so that he could “get his fuckin’ life back together”, as one of his friends had so eloquently put it. And what better place to start than looking online? Luckily, his phone company hadn’t disabled his data plan yet, the Starbucks had free wifi, and he had his charger on him. Put those three together, along with the $600 in cash that James had to buy various coffee beverages with, and you had a plan to sit in Starbucks all day and search for jobs.   
Of course, James was missing the “WE’RE HIRING!” sign that was practically right in front of him. When he finally paid attention long enough to read it, he noted that the hourly rate was $9.50, which was pretty good, considering that he was a college dropout with no degree, and was also probably enough to land him at least a semi-decent studio apartment in the right part of Manhattan.  
He checked one item off of his list, and on his first shift after being hired, while there was a relative lull in the amount of store patrons, he decided to check his options on an apartment retail site. And there it was; sliding exactly into his price range at $925 per month: a clean studio with natural lighting, in a convenient part of the city, and close enough for him to walk to if he continued to work at the Starbucks. James decided to send an inquiry to the super of the apartment he had his eye on and went back to his Starbucks barista-ing, when an old friend decided to walk back into his life.  
“James?” Mr. John Jay grinned. “You’re a barista? What’s new? Aside from your job, of course. Last time I saw you, weren’t you working double shift at a Wal-Mart in Harlem? Also, a quadruple shot espresso,” he ordered, sliding the money over the counter.  
“Yeah, I was, but as you can see, James Madison is moving up in the world.” he chuckled gently. “I’ve got a potential boyfriend, I’m moving to a new apartment nearby, and-”  
“Potential boyfriend?” John interrupted. “Hold the phone and go on back to that.”  
James rolled his eyes. John reminded him of himself, except perhaps with a bit more backbone. He would admit that he was a bit of a shrinking violet in most ways. In high school they had been practically inseparable. John was usually the one to bring James his work when he was home sick, (which happened quite a lot), sit with him, occasionally make him soup, and in return James kept John from flunking out by helping him study. John liked to call James the “quiet smart” to their third high school friend’s, Alexander’s, “loud smart”. He liked to say that where Alexander would preen and gloat about getting a better grade than you, James would sigh, sit down with you, and help you study. “He’s ten years older than us, so don’t get too excited.”  
“Ten years?”  
James turned away to begin making John’s espresso. “Yes, ten years, but he’s hilarious, so…”  
“How did you two meet? Not in a club, most likely. You wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those sex basements.” John paused to quote James. “Now, if you had the balls to do it, you might meet somebody like my new girlfriend Margarita Schuyler. I call her Peggy, and sometimes Pegs, though. I love her so much, she’s my own personal fun-sized ray of sunshine.”  
James snorted. “How hardcore do you need to be to have a nickname for your nickname?” he slid John’s drink over the counter, “And we actually met using a dating app. We hit it off, but we’re kind of in that weird, not-quite-dating but like each other stage. We’re still getting to know one another, really. Also, if we go out, sooner or later I’m going to have to tell my parents and I don’t know how they’ll react, you know? I mean, they’re old. They grew up in the fifties and sixties where everything was about hating the gays, and calling them faggots and stuff.”  
John took a sip, leaning forward onto the counter. “That’s a good point. Anyway, I live pretty close to here, actually. Call me up and I’ll help you move in. It’s a shame that we kind of fell out of contact for a while. Or just tell me when your shifts are and I’ll drop in to give you tips and to give you dating advice on this older gentleman you speak of. And as for tips…” John slid a $5 bill over the counter.   
The list of people who have given me cash in the past week is steadily growing longer, James thought ironically.  
“Anyway, have a lovely day, Mr. Barista!” John called mirthfully before leaving the Starbucks as James’s supervisor walked back in from her break.   
The rest of James’s shift passed with only one minor incident when he dropped somebody’s frappuccino, and he went back to his weird little alleyway with renewed hope. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up with lightning fast reflexes.  
“Hello, is this James Madison?” came a smooth female voice that James imagined what what it would sound like if cats could talk. “Maria Reynolds speaking.”  
“Yes, this is he,” James replied sleepily.  
“You had an inquiry about the studio apartment? Would you like to schedule a visit tomorrow at 2:30 PM?”  
He tried to hide his excitement. James would never take his home for granted again. “Can we actually move it to 3:30 tomorrow? My shift ends at 3.”   
“Of course.”  
..-..  
James waited at the door for miss Maria Reynolds after giving himself a quick once-over so he didn’t look too scruffy. And then she arrived, parking on the street in front of him and stepping out of her car.  
If he weren’t gay, he would have probably tried to have sex with her right then and there. She had on a tight red tank top that clung in all the right places and black, form fitting, capris that didn’t cover her so much as they left certain... assets to the imagination. With long, dark, curly hair to complete her aesthetic, she looked as if could rip your heart out and then stomp on it with the point of her six-inch heels. “Are you James Madison?”   
He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. She said nothing as well, instead gesturing for him to follow her inside after she unlocked the door. It was… smaller than he had thought it would be, but it was a studio apartment, so he supposed that was to be expected. The walls were clean and white, with light wooden floors and a radiator under the window. “You can paint the walls if you want, and rent is due on the 21st of each month. I cover half of the utilities, am responsible for broken appliances, and cats but no dogs are allowed.” she rattled off.  
“Do you have that whole spiel memorized?” he meandered throughout the room, examining the outlets in case they were broken and window to make sure it locked.   
“Yes, actually,” Maria smiled pleasantly. “I've had a lot of potential renters, but on their background checks they either committed a crime or had large dogs. I have nothing against dogs, but it's a small apartment, the walls aren't exactly very thick, and they’re loud.”   
There was a wedding band on her left ring finger. “How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?”   
“21, actually.” she replied briskly, “That's another question I've been asked a lot. Yes, that is a wedding ring, and yes I am young to own an apartment building.”  
He let out a quiet laugh. James already liked miss, well, Mrs. Maria Reynolds.   
Marriage wasn't a thing that he ever really thought that he could do. He had only had two boyfriends before, and neither of them he had really clicked with. What would it be like to wake up and go into the kitchen to them cooking breakfast with a smile, to just know that he’d be spending the rest of his life with them, and to not want to have it any other way?  
“Anyway, here’s my phone number, and if you could make your final decision on the apartment in two days I'll give you the papers and you can move in.”   
“No, no, no, no, no, I'll take it,” he replied quickly, almost too quickly. “I’d like the papers as soon as possible.”  
She looked taken aback but also somewhat at his apparent excitement over the small studio apartment. “Well. In that case, I can have the papers here for you as early as tomorrow at five if you’d like.”   
“That would be wonderful, actually. Thank you, Maria.” James smiled warmly. “It was a pleasure, ma’am.”  
About a week after that, James moved back into an actual house. 

 

James: mr jay I need your help to move into my new apartment   
Mr Jay: whãt  
James: bring that beanbag I gave you for safekeeping   
Mr Jay: fuck no that's my favorite thing   
James: I'll sue  
Mr Jay: fine but don't expect me to be happy about it  
James: rude  
Mr Jay: on one condition  
Mr Jay: you need to ride your boyfriend on it at least once   
James: whãt no  
Mr Jay: those are my terms   
James: fine

“So, have the two of you fucked yet?” John asked bluntly as he carried the beanbag up the steps to his studio. “If so, what is gay sex like, and was it any good?”  
“No, John, we have not had sex yet.” James replied with a sigh. “I’ll tell you when it happens, if it happens. You know I like to take relationships slow.” That was true. The reason him and his first two boyfriends hadn’t stayed together very long was because he wasn’t ready to have sex on the second date. They complained, told him that he was leading them on, called him frigid, a prude, a bitch, et cetera, and joked that they’d just cheat. At least James thought they were joking. He found his first boyfriend cheating with their law teacher, and his second with his first, which was a real slap in the face at the time. Were they still together? James made a mental note to check them out on Instagram after the two of them were done moving him in. “You do know that I’ve never had sex before, right, John?”  
“You’ve seriously never had sex before? Never? Not even with that one super horny frat boy who was palming you in the park that one time? Well, come to think of it, drunk sex is kind of iffy, so there’s that. But seriously, no sex? You’re charming, and you have no sex. If gay sex is anything like straight sex, and I’m guessing it is, you’re really missing out. You’d enjoy it.” he hefted a particularly heavy box up with a grunt. “But would you bottom or top?”  
James’s look of confusion prompted John to continue. “Seriously, James? You are a calamity of disappointments. Would you be the one to give the dick or to receive it?” he had to pause to snicker at his own stupid joke. “I like how I say the dick like it’s a trophy or something.”  
James didn’t answer, instead changing the topic. “So, you know how I was homeless for a while? Well, not a while, but a week and a half, a little more, a little less? I have learned never to take a shower for granted again. The first thing I do once you leave won’t be cook myself a proper meal. Nope, it’ll be to take a shower. I miss hot water,” he rambled on and on about the comforts of living.   
\--.--  
“That’s the last of your stuff.” John called from the sidewalk. “I’m going to go pick Peggy up from the salon, see you later!” James gave a halfhearted and exhausted wave as he settled down into the beanbag with a groan. His muscles were sore from moving shit from in front of his old apartment all day. It was nice to look around and once again see four walls, a bed, and an actual bathroom. He was mostly just glad that the garbage men didn’t know how to handle his miscellaneous articles of furniture and instead just opted to leave them on the side of the building. Now, he’d have to see about that shower....


	5. And Peggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am in physical pain from writing this entire thing saturday night

mr jay: heyheyhey want to go on a double date to our favorite bar this Friday  
James: With Peggy?  
mr jay: no my mother  
mr jay: yes Peggy  
mr jay: so what do you say  
James: do you want me to ask him?  
mr jay: no ill just send him a telepathic message   
James: John please stop don’t demean me just wait i’ll text him

James: So one of my friends is peer pressuring me into going on a double date with him and his girlfriend will you come with me  
Thomas: Oh, cool, who?  
James: This guy named John Jay  
Thomas where***  
James: at a bar that you’ve probably never been to but trust me it’s really good, this Friday 7:00 it’s literally the most casual place on the planet, the Quill and Ink   
Thomas: I’ve been there before it was pretty great, I get out of work at 6:00 so I’ll come to your apartment to pick you up, since it’s on the other side of the city.  
James: actually I’ll be getting a ride with John and Peggy, he lives on the way there  
Thomas: well that’ll work i guess see ya then

James: he said yeah   
mr jay: alright that’s good and you’ll finally get to meet the infamous peggy  
James: how wonderful exactly what I wanted yes yes  
mr jay: shut the fuck up mr nook

The time came for John to swing by. When he walked on in using the spare set of keys James had had made for him, he startled James who was minding his own business on his beanbag watching something on his laptop. James jumped and slammed it shut with a yelp. “What are you watching, Jamesey-Wamesey, something explicit in nature? Are you a consumer of homosexual pornographic material by any chance?” John wiggled his eyebrows and closed the door behind him.  
“God, John, can you at least knock?” he hissed, sliding the laptop off of his thighs and onto the floor. James stood up and straightened out his T-shirt, buttoning and zipping his pants while nursing his bruised ego.  
“I knew you were mastu-hrk!” he was cut off by James winging him in the stomach with a large, heavy, book. “War and Peace, right in the stomach? If you’re going to throw a book at me, can it at least not be a 1200 page hardcover novel?” John wheezed from the ground, clutching his stomach. “Anyway, just give me a minute to… recover and we’ll go.”   
James and John drove in mostly silence, but not the uncomfortable kind. They were close enough to one another that they didn’t feel the need to fill up the quiet between them. It was pleasant, almost peaceful, really, and James was almost disappointed when they arrived at the bar. “Peggy should just be arriving inside. You’d like her.”  
Inside, there weren’t very many people, only the usuals, which gave it a rather personal aura. James had warned Thomas to park around the block in front of the nearby bank so that he wouldn’t cause a stink with his car and it wouldn’t get stolen. Sitting at his and John’s usual table was a perky looking girl wearing a roughly knee-length yellow dress with a Peter Pan collar. James noticed that she vaguely resembled Maria. “Is that her?” he murmured, and John muttered back a quiet affirmation.   
He couldn’t help but wonder when Thomas would get there.   
Speak, well, think, of the devil and he shall arrive. In walked Thomas, and thankfully he had gotten the message to dress casually. His eyes scanned the rather small bar with a hint of repressed anxiety before locking onto James’s. Thomas sauntered over with his trademark easy grin already in place on his face. “James, good to see you,” he greeted, “and you two are?”  
“Margerita Schuyler, but my friends call me Peggy!” our friend in the yellow Peter Pan dress announced with flair. “That’s John Jay, he’s my boyfriend, and that’s- oh, wait, I almost introduced James to you.” James hadn’t had an actual conversation with Peggy yet, but he already liked her. John was right, she was a fun-sized ray of sunshine, with the dress to match. She was easy to get along with, bubbly, and really had a way of making James feel like the four of them were a family. “Anyway, you’re Thomas, right?” she didn’t wait for an answer, which James found a bit annoying. “James was just telling us about you.”  
James shot Thomas a look that roughly translated to, “I-have-literally-just-seen-this-person-for-the-first-time-ten-secconds-ago-send-help”. Thomas didn’t respond, instead suppressing a snicker. “Yeah, that’s me. Is your oldest sister by any chance Angelica? Where I work, there’s this one woman who is absolutely terrifying. She looks like you and you two share the same last name.”  
“Yeah, that’s her. You’re a lawyer too? Why is everybody I know trying to become or is a lawyer?” she mused. “Oh, well.”  
John stepped forward. “So you’re James’s boyfriend? Tall, dark, and really fucking handsome, that’s all three boxes checked. James, you did good. If I didn’t have a girlfriend I would be trying to get into your pants right now.” And than, realizing what he had said, he followed up with a classic, “Also if I were gay. Which I am not. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added quickly.  
Thomas had to stifle another laugh by biting his lip. He and James shared another glance. “Thanks?”  
John and Thomas were obviously sizing each other up. The two of them weren’t even trying to hide it from James and Peggy, who weren’t really sure what to do. It was almost comical, seeing as how John was almost a foot shorter than Thomas but was still taller than both James and Peggy. James would have laughed if he wasn’t so concerned about John and Thomas ripping each other to shreds and ending up as two puddles of blood and guts on the bar floor.  
“Okay, you two, that’s enough plotting of murder, you can do that later when I’m not wearing my nicest dress,” Peggy stepped in between the two, wedging them apart and most likely preventing a homicide. “Please, can the two of you not fight and ruin this for us?” She was rather endearing, really.  
“We’re not fighting, I’m just trying to fingure out if this guy is going to drug and rape my best friend the second I turn my back.” John said matter-of-factly. “Are you?”  
“That’s a stupid question. Of course not.” Thomas rolled his eyes saccharinely.  
Peggy and James sat with their respective significant others, (or potential significant others, in James’s case), and there were no more roadbumps for the most part.   
At the end of the date, after Thomas had left and James had gotten Peggy’s phone number, John and James shuffled into John’s car once again. “Did Thomas pass your little test?” James asked blandly.   
It took John a moment to think on this. “...Yeah. In the beginning, I was trying to piss him off while we were all slightly drunk so that he’d lose his cool and say something either really creepy or really rude, which he surprisingly didn’t. I was kind of suspicious of the fact that he’s, you know, ten years older than us, but he was actually a pretty nice guy. If you hadn’t told me, I would’ve guessed he was our age. You’re a lucky guy, you could’ve done a lot worse than him.”  
“Thanks, John. Does this mean that you won’t kill on sight next time you see him? He seems to really like Peggy.” James didn’t take his eyes off of the world outside the window he was currently looking out of. “Peggy’s pretty nice, too. She can be a bit much and get kind of annoying, but for the most part she’s pretty cheerful.” John nodded in agreement. “You did pretty well yourself. How did you and Peggy meet?”  
“She’s Alexander’s girlfriend’s sister.”   
“You still talk with Alex? Didn’t he insult your mother to her face?”  
“Well, not so much talk, as I ran into Alex and his girlfriend while they were out birthday shopping for her, and then they ran into her, and we hit it off. Here we are today, almost a year later and still going strong.”  
“A year? How did I not know about her?”  
“James, the way we reunited was by you working at a Starbucks that I just so happened to visit. It shouldn’t be too wild of a concept for you to remember that we haven’t really talked much in the past three years. For example, I almost have my Bachelor’s in business now, but I’m probably going to go for a Master’s. Did you know that?”  
He shook his head. Even if he hadn’t talked to John, he still followed him on Instagram. Did he seriously pay that little attention to him since he dropped out of college? “John, I’m so sorry,” he said emptily.   
“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and all that counts is that we’re both here now.”   
That took a minute to sink in. “That’s actually pretty deep. But you’re right. What’s done is done, and there’s no point trying to change the past. My mistakes are behind me and I’m here today, a calamity of errors. I can’t change that, so I have to accept it, sorry, am I rambling again?” James trailed off. He had taken John’s advice a bit too personally.   
“Yeah, you’re really rambling. Is this about your heroin stage that you went through for like a week or two in college?” John confirmed. “Not only was that really weird of you to just suddenly be like ‘Surprise! I’m a heroin addict!’, I was actually kind of scared for you. I’ve seen those pictures of people before and after heroin and I didn’t want that to happen to you.”  
James cringed, thankful that it was dark both outside and in the car where nobody could see the look of shame on his face. “Yeah, I’m glad I shook that before it got too bad, you know? We’ve all probably heard those stories of people who never shake off the habit and they become homeless, they have deformed kids, and if the kids aren’t deformed they abuse them, et cetera. It’s definitely good that I never became one of those.”   
John was silent and James felt as if he was looking right through his lie into James’s mind. “...Yeah, that’s good. Anyway, we’re almost at your house. Do you want to get a smoothie or something, we’re going to pass right by a McDonald’s. My treat.”  
“Sure, I’ll take you up on that.”  
\--.--  
James lay in bed wide awake after a wild roller coaster of a night. Going to the bar, trying to keep Thomas and John from killing each other, and then to top it all off, a McDonald’s smoothie. And then the real awfulness of his life suddenly hit him full force like a truck. 

What was wrong with him, flat out lying to his best friend’s face like that after he had paid for both his drinks and his smoothie? What kind of scumbag would do something like that? The least he could do for John was be honest with him and tell him that he was going to go into withdrawal any minute now. But no, he had to lie. Being honest was too much work for him. Why was he like this? And Thomas, oh, God, Thomas didn’t know about it either. What would Thomas make of him, a college dropout former druggie whose main source of income was whoring himself out to older men? But then he remembered that Thomas was one of those older men that he had whored himself out to, which gave him a moment’s relief before bringing on a new wave of shame. They could never have a real relationship with a foundation built on anything more than the trade of goods and services, not when James relied on Thomas to keep him from spiraling downwards into a cesspool of debt. What exactly did Thomas want from him? There was nothing even remotely resembling sex involved in their relationship. Even if James wanted to, they could never go any further than their current arrangement, he was too dependent on him. There would be no fairy-tale ending wedding with sunshine and rainbows for him, at least not with Thomas. 

 

But what if he did want to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was unedited because god forbid I'm late on an update


	6. Chapter 6

After his double date last night with James and John Jay, Thomas had received a late night call from Alex that he simply let go into his voicemail. He didn’t want to waste his valuable energy picking up and getting into an argument  
“Heeeeeeeeeey, Jeffershit, why won’t you pick up your phone? Guess what great news I’ve just received! Washington has decided to hire me full time! Now I can piss in your coffee every morning both literally and figuratively! Sure, I only have a cubicle at the moment, but soon I’ll work my way up and I’ll be your boss. I’m going to really enjoy firing you.”  
And with that, Alexander had hung up abruptly, leaving Thomas to stew with anger for his entire (now sleepless) night. Thomas had half a mind to call him back and get into an argument with him about it, but he decided that it would be more entertaining to let Alex think he was such a hotshot before tearing him down the next morning.  
The minute Thomas Jefferson entered his office., he knew it was going to be one of those days.  
“Oh, it’s you. Where do you go all night, or do you just pretend to be asleep whenever I come over?” Alexander sniped, poking his head out of the cubicle he had recently taken up residence in.  
Thomas, coffee in one hand and phone in the other, turned slowly to Alex and shot him a death glare and shot back a scathing reply, exchanging the death glare for a nasty, sarcastic smirk. “Why would I pretend to be asleep when a son of a whore came calling? Certainly, you must have learned something from your mother. Judging by how many people in this office talk about your bed habits, I wouldn’t want to miss out, would I?”   
Alexander glared back up at Thomas silently, teeth bared in a silent growl. Just from the look on his face, Thomas could tell that he couldn’t think up a good enough response to grace him with.  
“Aww, are your _whoremones _acting up?” He gave Alexander one last saccharine smile and headed into his office, taking a detour towards one of his friend’s own offices.__  
“Henry, I’m this close to committing murder and/or suicide. Alex has been hired. What is Washington thinking?” he announced, slamming open the door.  
Mr. Knox spun around on his swivel chair to face Thomas with his signature resting bitch face. “You do know that I like Alexander and wanted him to be hired, right? If you want to bitch about Alexander, you might want to pick a different person. Also, if there’s no other reason for you coming in here other than to complain about Hamilton, please leave. I’ve got at least six phone calls to return and I won’t be able to do them with you sitting here needling me about Alexander Hamilton’s unhealthy work habits and your insatiable thirst for his blood.”  
With a frustrated sigh, Thomas continued on his way to his office and plopped down in his own swivel chair, clacking away at his computer’s keyboard like a teenaged girl writing fanfiction late at night in her room. Hopefully, if there were no more interruptions, he could get his postponed work done early and have a long, relaxing, absolutely Alexander-free weekend selling drugs.

___Later that night, after the fiasco with A.Ham and his “whoremones”, Thomas went back to his townhouse to await James Monroe’s arrival with news about their supplier._  
Monroe didn’t bother knocking, instead entering as if he owned the place. Thomas lingered on that thought for a moment as he heard Monroe slam the door behind him, finding it amusing that even though James Monroe had as much entitlement as Thomas did hair, Thomas probably made more money in a month than he had ever seen in his entire life.   
“FUCK YOU, JEFFERSON!” Monroe’s yell echoed throughout the house as Thomas slid down the banister like a child.   
“I would, but… I have standards. Which you don’t meet. Sorry, Monroe,” Thomas called, alighting gracefully on his feet in front of Monroe. “Anyway, let’s get down to business. Wine?” he offered, reaching into his wine fridge.   
“Of course.”  
“Red?”  
“You know me so well.” James took a seat on Thomas’s couch.  
..-..  
The two sat in Thomas’s living room, sipping their wine, the bottle on the coffee table between them half empty, even though it had only been opened just then. It certainly didn’t help that they were both heavy drinkers who could hold their liquor well.   
“Haven’t you heard? Since our supplier nearly got caught but you paid off the police to release him, he’s slicing our expenses in half, Thomas.” Monroe took a long swig after finishing his sentence. “He says it’s because he ‘rewards those who do him a great service’.”  
“He does know that I didn’t do it out of any goodness in my heart, right? I did it because if he were questioned, odds are he’d crack and get me arrested.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “But still, half of the price for our… products? That’s wonderful news.” His voice was flat, his eyes glassed over. He dry heaved as if he were about to throw up, and when they stopped, he sighed. “I think… that’s enough wine for one night. Are you all right to drive or do you want to stay over?”  
“I’m fine. I can drive. Thanks though, Thomas. Do you want some weed cookies or something? They’re in my backseat because I have to deliver them to that one junkie who buys enough weed to give a small country a seizure. You know how I always talk about him?” he paused to laugh dopily. “He won’t notice one or two missing, I’m sure. He’s too stoned to count properly, anyway.” Monroe popped a cookie into his mouth and reclined in his chair.  
“No, Monroe, sorry. I can’t. I’ve been clean for five years, I don’t want to give that all up for some grass goods.” Thomas crossed and uncrossed his legs, a nervous tic of his. “Believe me, I want to eat that entire fuckin’ box and then some, but I have a partner and a job, and if the police department spring one of those surprise drug tests on my firm, I’m so screwed.”  
Monroe nodded pensively. He was a professing high, having earth-shattering revelations while stoned out of his mind. “Yeah, I can see where you’re going with that. You don’t want to give up your long-term happiness and joy in exchange for getting high and forgetting everything wrong with the world. That’s not a bad way to be, but hedonism in the short term allows you to squeeze the most enjoyment out of life. What’s stopping you from doing that? Do you have plans? And who is this partner that you’re talking about?”  
Thomas wasn’t sure how to answer, so he tried his hardest to avoid the first question. “Wow, those cookies really do work fast, don’t they? You’re so interesting when you’re tweaked. And anyway, his name is James, and he’s so great. I’m not going to tell you too much about him, other than he’s quiet, he’s adorable, he’s so short, like, really short, and he’s absolutely wonderful. I’ve only known him for maybe a week, but I like him a lot.” He paused for a moment, chuckling. “God, I sound like a hormonal teenager, don’t I? I’m all ‘it’s true love, Monroe,’ but honestly, true love doesn’t exist.”  
“Yeah, you do. It’s really weird, you’re usually so put together.” It took Monroe a moment to register his name, and then when it dawned on him, he gasped. “Is it me that you love? My name is James, and I’m adorable!”  
“Yeah, I can’t let you get on the train home in good conscience. You’re too high to coordinate yourself properly, much less take the subway thirty miles.” Thomas sighed. He stood up, corked the mostly empty bottle, and slipped it back into the wine fridge. He eased Monroe out of his chair and to his feet, not so much leading him up the stairs as he was carrying him. “Do you want to stay in your usual guest room, or in a different one?”   
James Monroe didn’t respond, tripping over his own feet on his way up the stairs. Thomas paused at the top of the stairs and slid his free hand down his face, sighing loudly through his nose. “God, you’re a fucking mess. Never get stoned at my house ever again. I will throw you into the road and run you over myself.”  
Monroe’s only reply came in the form of glassy eyes and a stupid grin as if he had just understood the secrets of the universe. He stumbled blindly into the vacant guest room with its clean white sheets and delicate pastel green walls, flipping open the bedsheets, kicking off his shoes and flinging off his jacket. Thomas stopped for a moment to watch him slip under the sheets before closing the door behind him on his way out.   
And as he returned to his own bedroom, he thought to himself with a silly little smile what the other James, the one he cared so much about, would look like in his own bed, just curled up by his side. 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about how fucked up I am on my instagram at @agoldenwildfire


End file.
